


Beautiful Goodbye

by semaphoredrivethru



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-12
Updated: 2001-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semaphoredrivethru/pseuds/semaphoredrivethru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, a young knight met a young woman. She was kind and strong, and everything he could never have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by 'Beautiful Goodbye', as written by D. Tyson and C. Ward, and sung by Amanda Marshall. I heard that song, and the inspiration just came up and hit me with an iron frying pan. The dialect of Carra and her people is from my head, heavily inspired by a dialect used by Katherine Kerr in her Dragon Mage series.
> 
> Written in a 'verse where Jedi aren't necessarily forbidden from marriage and/or the horizontal tango.

~*~*~  
Prologue  
~*~*~

The wreckage of _The Beautiful Goodbye_ was still smoldering. Flames had engulfed it almost immediately after the crash landing that had left a small crater in the ground. Pieces of shrapnel littered the ground, some cold and cooling, others still glowing from heat.

It had been simple bad luck to crash in that location; it was a largely uninhabited area of a mostly agricultural planet, and even if there had been locals nearby to hear the crash, not many would have known what to do. However, there were two people nearby who were most certainly not locals, and who did know what to do -- for all the good it would do.

The pair of Jedi knelt on the ground, working intently on the person they had pulled from the twisted metal of the wreck, their hoods pulled forward to block smoke from getting in their eyes. They applied Bacta and bandages, and the younger of the two spared a moment to signal for help, while also sending a prayer to the Force that it would be in time. The co-pilot's body was still trapped in the smoke and heat; he had died on impact, and the Jedi were concentrating on saving the one before them, who seemed to struggle for each breath.

The person they worked on was a tall, slender woman, though her charred clothes and flesh made it hard to tell much more. Her hair, burnt away in patches, seemed to be cut as short as a padawan's, and her rescuers could feel the wiry muscle definition beneath the blood and the pain. Each breath was exhaled with a quiet moan, and the moans were becoming few and far between.

Finally, the Jedi sat back on their haunches; they had done all that they could. Now, all that remained was to wait for the med transport. Everything was up to their patient until then. The younger Jedi brushed a tear from his cheek; unmindful of the streak of soot he left behind. His master placed a comforting hand on her padawan's shoulder. The two made eye contact in a moment of understanding, and then turned their attention back to the woman on the ground between them.

From the moment they had pulled her from the wreckage, the woman's eyes had been closed. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and squinted as if the smoky daylight were too much for the hazel orbs. Then, she turned her head to the side, and focused on something that wasn't there.

The woman smiled softly, and breathed a man's name. Then she breathed no more.

~*~*~  
One  
~*~*~

"That's it Obi-Wan, concentrate. Feel the Force flow through you, complete you, guide you."

Obi-Wan grunted in response, and continued to focus so hard, he was certain he'd have a headache later on.

"Careful, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon cautioned, "if you spill it, not only will you have to start over, but you'll have to collect all my fish before they die." He smiled; even though he was remaining outwardly neutral, Qui-Gon was inordinately proud of his Padawan's progress. It wasn't very easy to levitate an aquarium of fish across the room while blindfolded and standing on your own head.

There was a chime to let Qui-Gon know that someone was at the door. He stood, adjusting his loose beige exercise tunic. "Continue, Obi-Wan," he said, "I will be right back." This time, he was sure Obi-Wan grunted something uncouth about Qui-Gon's lineage. Qui-Gon smiled as he crossed the common room, ducking to avoid the floating and shuddering aquarium.

He was still smiling when he activated the door, and saw his friend, Mace Windu, standing there.

"Mace!" Qui-Gon said. "What a surprise. What mission of danger is it this time? Or did I omit some pivotal detail in my report of our last mission?"

To his surprise, Mace didn't even crack a smile. The last few missions the Jedi Council had sent Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan on had been boring even to the serene Jedi master whose padawan was still levitating fish in the other room. They had been sent to oversee bland debates and final stages of trade negotiations, and even once they had been so fortunate as to be sent to a mining planet to mediate a dispute between the workers and the administrators; it would seem that the workers wanted one extra dessert each, once a week. That had been a tense few days until the Jedi suggested that they make it one extra dessert, every other week.

But Mace simply stood there, his face as expressionless as a protocol droid's, even as Qui-Gon's smile faded. "Mace?"

"Qui-Gon..." Mace began, "there was a crash, on Yerrin V. Both the pilot and co-pilot died, but no other locals were hurt. A couple of our people were nearby. " He handed Qui-Gon a datapad, still smudged with soot. "They found this in the wreckage." Qui-Gon took it, apprehension filling him as Mace continued to speak. "Apparently, something went wrong with the nav system, and they crashed shortly after take-off, before they could do anything about it. The co-pilot died on impact, and the pilot died shortly after our people pulled her out."

Distantly, Qui-Gon was aware of a whoop of triumph from the other room. "What was the name of the ship?" he asked, somehow already knowing the answer.

Mace's blank face finally crumpled into compassion. " _The Beautiful Goodbye_ ," he said quietly, knowing that he was breaking his friend's heart.

Qui-Gon nodded. "Thank you, Mace," he said, after a long moment. "I need to be alone now." Blindly, he closed the door in Mace's face, though Mace took no offense to it.

He had, after all, just told his best friend that the woman he was never supposed to love was dead.

~*~*~  
Two  
~*~*~

"Master!" Obi-Wan called, bounding forward with energy and enthusiasm more suited for someone half his age, "I did it!"

Obi-Wan had expected nothing more than a small smile and a 'job well done,' but it was still a shock when his master barely acknowledged him. Instead, Qui-Gon was focused on a dirty datapad as he headed down the hall to his bedroom.

"Master?" Obi-Wan tentatively asked. "Who was that at the door?"

Qui-Gon finally turned around and looked up, his eyes distant and watery. "Mace," he said after a beat.

"Are we going on another mission?"

"No." Qui-Gon looked away, and walked into his bedroom.

Obi-Wan sighed in frustration. Qui-Gon was a wonderful teacher, but he had a terrible habit of shutting down when something reached the emotions that he kept buried deeply within his heart. The last time Obi-Wan had seen him like this had been a year ago, when Obi-Wan was trying to decide if he would take any additional vows when he became a Knight.

He had spent hours pouring over holocrons, reading about the old traditions, and making his list of choices. When a padawan was made a knight, he had the option to take additional vows along with his vow to always abide by the code, protect the weak, help the helpless, and bring justice to the lawless. It was a difficult choice, and most Obi-Wan's age had decided that the regular vow of a Jedi Knight was sufficient enough to show their dedication. But Obi-Wan, never being the one to do things the easy way, had gotten it into his head that he ought to at least _look_ for a vow.

He had narrowed it down to three choices when Qui-Gon returned from a meeting that had taken up the better part of the afternoon. There were datapads and holocrons scattered all over the floor of the common area, and Obi-Wan lay in the center of it all, absentmindedly chewing on the end of his Padawan Braid and muttering to himself.

Smiling, Qui-Gon had picked up a datapad to see what project Obi-Wan had thrown himself into this time. The smile froze on Qui-Gon's face, and then slowly faded as he read the description of one of the vows Obi-Wan had been researching. Slowly, Qui-Gon set the datapad back down.

"What are you doing, Padawan?" Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan brought his head up swiftly - Qui-Gon rarely used his position title in private, unless there was something very serious to discuss.

"I'm researching some vows, Master." Obi-Wan stood, unconsciously affecting a formal stance. "I know I'm many years from my Trials, but I only wanted to be prepared..."

Something flashed in Qui-Gon's eyes, and Obi-Wan could have sworn he saw sadness and regret in his master's blue gaze. "And have you made your decision, Obi-Wan?" he asked, forcing his body and voice to relax.

Taking his cue from Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan relaxed as well, scratching his calf with the toes of his other foot as he looked at the mess surrounding him. "Actually, I haven't, but I've got it down to three: poverty, humility, and charity."

Qui-Gon sighed as though something had been released inside him, and then smiled genuinely. "Not celibacy?" he asked, gesturing to the datapad he had just read from.

Obi-Wan laughed. "Oh Force no! Not only would a group of certain females kill me, but I'd also go crazy keeping that vow!" It was a well-known fact throughout the Temple that Obi-Wan was the favorite for the first and second year girls to follow around and moon over. "Besides, who takes a vow like that anymore, anyhow?"

Qui-Gon's smile turned sad. "Me," he said, and left the room.

It had taken nearly two days for Qui-Gon to return to his usual teasing, gentle self, and Obi-Wan never did find out if it was what he said that had upset his master so.

Now, staring at Qui-Gon's closed and locked bedroom door, the words of the vow of celibacy came floating up in Obi-Wan's mind:

This I pledge:  
To feel only the concern of a brother to another,  
To give my heart only to the Order,  
To love none other but the Force,  
To always follow this course,  
This I vow.

~*~*~  
Three  
~*~*~

Qui-Gon fingered the bare spot behind his ear for what must have been the hundredth time that day. In a way, he missed his Padawan Braid, although he was glad to finally be a knight. Less than a week earlier, he had knelt before his master and the Jedi Council, recited his vows, and watched as his long brown Padawan Braid fell into the waiting hand of his suddenly-former-master. Qui-Gon still had trouble believing it had finally happened, and that he wasn't going to open his eyes at any minute, to see the wizened green face of his master peering over him, reprimanding him for sleeping late yet again.

"Will you stop playing with it already?" Mace grinned at him, and tugged at the small queue that was the ragged remnants of Qui-Gon's padawan cut. "If you miss it that badly, you really ought to just grow your hair long. At least it'll give you something to do with your hands."

Qui-Gon threw a playful punch at his friend, who ducked out of the way. "Well, I certainly won't go the route you did, Baldie," he said. "I feel like I should rub your head for good luck on our mission."

"You might want to try it," Mace said, serious for a moment, "this is going to be a hard job, especially for a couple of new knights."

The pair was on their way to Yerrin V, a largely agricultural planet that had found itself in the midst of civil unrest. Yerrin V was one of the larger producers of raw ingredients for Bacta, the life-saving material that could regenerate skin, fight off infection, and expedite what would once have been long and painful recoveries. The local government, while growing fat from the income that the planet's rich soil provided, was unwilling to use much of that wealth to improve the lives of the men and women who worked the fields that made Yerrin V such an important place in the galaxy. The people of Yerrin V had decided that enough was enough, and a strike against any further farming loomed on the horizon.

The Jedi had been called in to prevent the issue from getting any further out of hand, and they had sent Mace Windu and Qui-Gon Jinn to oversee the negotiations, since the two young knights were among the best of their peers at diplomatic relations. The young men had been informed by the Jedi Council that while the utmost faith had been placed in them, that they were to call for reinforcements if things deteriorated beyond their control. Both Mace and Qui-Gon were eager to prove themselves worthy of this faith, and so they were determined to pull off the smoothest negotiations ever.

Qui-Gon sighed. "It will probably be a fairly short negotiation," he said. "All we need to do is convince both sides to make some concessions, and we'll be out of there."

"Yeah," Mace snorted, "and I just saw a Bantha fly past the aft view port."

The banter ended then, because Mace was concentrating on landing their small craft on a nearly deserted landing pad along the outskirts of Yan, the only major city on Yerrin V. Only a small group of delegates were waiting as Mace and Qui-Gon waited for the boarding ramp to lower. Before they could be seen, Qui-Gon reached over and rubbed the top of his friend's head.

"For luck," he grinned, and pulled up his hood.

The two Jedi walked down the ramp, and across the pad to the four human men who waited for them. The expensive cut and fabrics of their clothing labeled them as the delegates from the government, but there didn't seem to be anyone waiting from the other group, called the Worker's Party. Unease shivered up Qui-Gon's spine, and he glanced out of the corner of his eye at Mace, who obviously had sensed the same as he.

"Jedi," the most expensively dressed man stepped forward, "I be Governor Loran Mial. I welcome you."

Qui-Gon bowed, something more than a tilt of the head to acknowledge the man's importance. "I am Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is Mace Windu."

"Where are the delegates for the Worker's Party?" Mace asked as they were escorted to a waiting land speeder.

Mial snorted in contempt. "They be too cowardly to show themselves, because they know they be in the wrong. Hopefully, you will soon show them the wrong of their ways."

"We will gladly show anyone the error of his ways," Qui-Gon said, arching an eyebrow.

Suddenly, there was a loud explosion behind them, and the Jedi's ship burst into flames. Shrapnel flew everywhere. Mace and Qui-Gon launched themselves forward to shield the delegates with their own bodies. 'Sabers drawn, the two men whipped around, expecting a further attack.

But none came.

Governor Mial stood, brushing dirt from his clothes. "You see what horrible cowards they be?" he shouted over the roaring flames. "They try to kill you as you arrive! Quickly, we will take you somewhere safe."

Still guarding the delegates, Mace and Qui-Gon followed them to the land speeder. As they drove off, Qui-Gon thought he saw the face of a young woman, watching them. As soon as he saw her, though, she seemed to disappear. Qui-Gon immediately filed her image away for later thought as he held on tightly to keep from flying out of the land speeder. It was one of the bumpiest rides he'd experienced in a long time, and he had a sneaking suspicion that things were going to get only bumpier.

~*~*~  
Four  
~*~*~

"'It will probably be a fairly short negotiation,'" Mace said in a singsong voice.

"You know, I like you less and less as the years go by," Qui-Gon retorted as he tried to scrub smoke stains out his cloak. He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub in the adjoining bathroom between he and Mace's bedrooms in the house they had been assigned for their stay. According to Governor Mial, that house was where all the important off-world visitors stayed. Judging by the dust that covered a number of surfaces, it had been a very long time since someone had stayed in the Diplomatic House, as it was called.

"It's part of my charm," Mace replied, entirely unrepentant. He sobered. "But we do have a problem, you know."

"Yes," Qui-Gon nodded, leaving his cloak to soak for a moment, "now that Mial is trying to frame the Worker's Party for sabotage and terrorism."

"You picked up on that, too?"

"I wouldn't be surprised to find that the Worker's Party thought we were scheduled to arrive tomorrow. It was just too easy."

Mace nodded in grim agreement. "So now what, oh partner mine?"

"Now," Qui-Gon said, gathering his spare cloak, "we go for a little walk."

~*~*~

The streets nearest to the government buildings in Yan were clean, bright, and something for the local officials to be proud of. Unfortunately, only mere blocks away, the prosperity that accompanied a capitol city suddenly disappeared. Tenements and dingy alleyways were all the people in that section of town had, and the sharp contrast was not lost on the Jedi as Qui-Gon and Mace picked their way between piles of discarded boxes, machinery, and refuse.

Once, the entire city of Yan had been a glowing jewel that any planetary government would have been proud of. The people received free health care, housing, and other supplies as a regular course of things. The buildings and streets were kept in good repair, and the annual citywide Festival of Life had lived in infamy among the true party animals of the system.

But the current government's apathetic approach to the common people was nothing new, and the generations of abuse had taken a great toll - not only on the city, but also from the heart and soul of the very citizenry. People scuttled away from the Jedi as they made their careful way, and the cacophony of noises that surrounded them began to blend into a medley of violence and despair.

Mace's nose wrinkled against the smell of unwashed humans and animals. "We have company," he said conversationally. His dark eyes continued to scan the street as though he didn't know they we being followed.

"I know," Qui-Gon replied just as casually. "Almost since we left the Diplomatic House. So what do you say? Coruscant, Alderaan, or --"

"Corellia," Mace finished for him. "I'll take North."

Qui-Gon nodded, and immediately veered off into the nearest alley on his right. Mace melted into the shadows to the left, and they waited for their tale to appear. After a few minutes, a tall, slim figure crept into view. Underneath mud-covered rags that passed for clothing, and the dirty hat pulled down to hide the upper face, it appeared to be a boy. The boy stopped almost directly between Qui-Gon and Mace's hiding places, and looked around. When he found no one, the boy turned to leave, a dejected slump to his shoulders.

"Going so soon?" Mace said, seeming to appear behind him. The boy gave a high-pitched yelp and tried to run away.

Instead, he ran directly into Qui-Gon. Feeling the Jedi's strong arms trap him, the boy began to struggle franticly, but ineffectually, against the larger man's chest. In the struggle, the boy's hat was knocked loose. A shining mass of straight, dark brown hair tumbled down to brush against Qui-Gon's hands as they clasped around the middle of his captive's back.

The 'boy' stilled.

"Be letting me go," a distinctly feminine voice demanded after a few moments. "I won't run, but you don't be smelling good enough for me to be staying."

Laughter danced in Mace's eyes, but he kept his face impassive as Qui-Gon gently released the young woman. She stepped out of reach immediately, glaring at the pair of Jedi who had managed to get the drop on her. Her face was almost pixie-like, and Qui-Gon wondered how he could have been so obtuse as to mistake her for a boy. She was maybe a year older than Qui-Gon, and glaring at him for staring at her. Indignantly, she replaced her hat, tucking her hair back underneath with expert efficiency.

"Well?" she demanded, her wide hazel eyes snapping with impatience.

"Well, what?" Mace asked.

"Be you going to question me? Demand to know who I be? Why I be following you?" she replied in the curious syntax the Jedi were quickly becoming accustomed to.

"I suppose we ought to," Qui-Gon said, as though he were still thinking it over.

Mace sighed dramatically. "But since this is a diplomatic mission, we don't get to..."

"Now, now Mace," Qui-Gon said warningly, "you remember what happened the last time."

The young woman's eyes widened in fright as she listened to their exchange. "I be telling you!" she said in a strangled whisper. Mace and Qui-Gon merely looked at her expectantly. "I be Carrana Lee, and my father be Mionet Lee. He be the leader of the Worker's Party. I be following you, because my father wanted to be knowing who you be, come to help Governor Mial."

"You were at the landing platform this morning, weren't you?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Yes, I be there. I be not sure why your ship blew up, but I be sure it be not my father's fault, just as I be sure my father be looking to find the right of the story." The look on her face clearly said that she didn't expect the Jedi to believe her.

Mace and Qui-Gon exchanged a look, and Qui-Gon nodded almost imperceptibly.

"We believe you," Mace said. "Will you take us to your father?"

Carrana shied from him. "My father will be not pleased," she said. "You be friend of Governor Mial."

"We are Jedi," Mace explained. "We only want what is best for everyone involved."

"That be not possible, Jedi," Carrana smiled ruefully. "My mother, she used be say that you can be pleasing some people some times, but not be pleasing all people all times."

"Very wise words," Qui-Gon commented. Carrana's smile broadened, as if he had just passed some unknown test.

"I be taking you to my father now," she said suddenly. "Be following me, please."

~*~*~  
Five  
~*~*~

Mionet Lee sat in a wheelchair that was cobbled together from bits and pieces of discarded machinery. He regarded the two young men -- two Jedi Knights -- who had chosen to kneel in front of him, rather than tower above. He could sense that they were honest, smart men, who only had the best of intentions, even if they were a bit too idealistic. But he did not make the mistake of thinking of these Jedi as naïve innocents who had been sheltered from the world their whole lives, as he knew Governor Mial to have done.

The leader of the Worker's Party, if he could stand, would have been tall and slender, just like his daughter, and despite the streaks of silver that shot through his hair, it was easy to see that Carrana had inherited her dark brown hair from her father as well. But where Carrana's eyes sparkled with life, Mionet's hazel eyes were clouded with pain, determination, and sadness.

In the preliminary reports that Mace and Qui-Gon had been given, they had read that Mionet Lee had been a supervisor for one of the larger groups of government-owned fields, until a little more than three years earlier. A piece of equipment had malfunctioned, and Mionet had risked his own life to save that of one of his workers. The man had survived, but Mionet's body had been battered and scarred by the incident. Revolutionary med techniques, Bacta treatments, and physical therapy could have given Mionet the use of his legs once more, but some clerk in the governmental buildings had decided that it wasn't worth the expense.

Crippled, and in too much pain to do any work available to him, Mionet was forced to stay at home, while his wife and grown daughter, Carrana, worked to support the family and Mionet's growing med bills. Unfortunately, Mionet's wife became ill as well, though she continued to work despite the pain from the fatal illness that she kept hidden from her family.

She died less than two years after her husband's accident.

Convinced that it was the blame of the government's unfeeling attitude towards the people that had indirectly caused his wife's death, Mionet began the Worker's Party, to convince the government to change their policies. He wanted to prevent any other family from suffering as he and his daughter had. Others soon joined him, and others joined them, and Mionet was elected to be their official spokesperson and leader.

"Jedi," Mionet said after a long few moments, "you be welcome in my home. My daughter did tell me you be not secret allies with Mial. This gladdens my heart."

Mace inclined his head. "We are here to oversee the negotiations between the Worker's Party and the Governor."

Mionet shifted uneasily, and Carrana made a point of leaving the room swiftly. "I not be wishing for negotiations with the liar Mial," he said at length. "Mial be talking peace before, but he be feeding us lies instead of change."

Qui-Gon scowled slightly. "Didn't you agree to Jedi mediation of your dispute?"

"No," Mionet shook his head, "I be certain. My wife, she were a wise woman, she used be say that problems should be staying in the family. We be wanting to deal with this our own ways."

"I'm afraid that's no longer an option," Qui-Gon said, with genuine regret. "Your planet is a very important planet, and the Republic is concerned over your problems. Until they are resolved, I am afraid you are going to be stuck with us."

"That be what I thought," Mionet sighed. "But I still be not trusting Mial, and I be not wanting to be near him."

"What if you selected someone to represent you at the negotiations?" Mace suggested. "A close friend? Your daughter, perhaps?"

Before Mionet could respond, Carrana burst into the room, excitement lighting her eyes from what she had overheard. "Oh, my Father," she said, "may I? I be knowing your mind better than any of the others!"

Mionet scowled. "I be thinking not, my Carra. I worry it not be safe for you, or any one else who might be going." He looked pointedly at the Jedi.

"We will see to it that your daughter is safe," Mace assured him. Mace knew that if the talks never so much as began, the people of Yerrin V could likely run head first into civil war. Mionet had to be convinced to allow someone to participate, and Mace thought that Carrana would be a good candidate.

"I need be think about this," Mionet said at length. "And I need be talk this over with my Carra."

Qui-Gon and Mace nodded in understanding. "We will wait outside," Qui-Gon offered, wanting to talk to Mace anyhow.

As soon as the door has shut behind them, Qui-Gon turned to his friend. "What in the name of the Force were you thinking, Mace? We can't spend all of our time with one delegate; if we do, the Governor will scream about impartiality. And then we _will_ have completely botched this assignment beyond repair."

"Don't worry, Qui-Gon," Mace grinned, his even white teeth seeming to glow against his dark skin, "I've got that planned out, too."

"What? We disguise the girl as a Jedi when we're not in negotiations? You do realize she will have to stay at the Diplomatic House with us, as well; it's the only way to guarantee her safety."

"One of us stays with the girl, the other goes with the Governor during free times. That way, we evenly divide our time." Mace looked very proud of himself. Then he grinned mischievously. "Besides, _I_ didn't take a vow of celibacy, so it won't be unduly hard on me," he grinned lasciviously.

For some reason, Qui-Gon found himself being angered by Mace's attitude about the girl. Though neither of them would ever treat Carrana -- or any other woman -- with anything less than the utmost respect, Qui-Gon felt actual jealousy flare up at Mace's joke. Quickly, he squashed the unworthy feeling, and sighed in defeat.

"Oh, all right," he said. "I'll stay with the girl. With my vow, I'll be the most above accusations of corruption. I just want to say one more thing."

"Yes?"

"I have a bad feeling about this."

~*~*~  
Six  
~*~*~

Carra, as she had instructed Qui-Gon and Mace to call her, walked between the solid bulks of the Jedi. She had changed out of her boy disguise before they left her home, and Qui-Gon couldn't believe that he had actually believed her to be anything other than a woman. Her clean skin was smooth and tanned, and her tall, slender form, while not giving her very many curves, gave her a willowy grace that more than made up for any perceived lack of female attributes. When she walked, her dark brown hair hung gracefully behind her back in a straight, shimmering curtain that ruffled slightly in the breeze.

The folds of Carra's green ankle-length dress swished around her legs, and the weight of her small bag was all but ignored by the happy young woman. So excited was she that her father had agreed to let her speak for him, Carra wanted to skip ahead. But she reigned in the childish impulse with some effort. Because of the great importance of the talks, she wanted to be taken seriously. If she were seen acting like a child, she'd get the same consideration as a child, and that was exactly what she _didn't_ want.

Qui-Gon sensed her barely leashed energy, and felt a swelling of sympathy mixed with pride. He knew what it was like to have so much energy he could hardly sit still, while also having to be sedate and calm at all times; he resolved to do something to help her out when ever he could. He turned to Mace when the trio reached the diplomatic house.

"Mace," he said, "I will help Carra settle in. Do you want to go inform Governor Mial that the delegate for the Worker's Party has arrived, and tell him of our arrangement?"

Mace smiled knowingly at the expression in his friend's eyes. That expression usually meant another wounded animal had taken over Qui-Gon's room, while the softhearted young man slept on the floor to avoid disturbing his charge. Mace just waved jauntily, informing Qui-Gon he'd be back as soon as he knew when the negotiations would begin.

Qui-Gon led Carra to one of the two bedrooms in the small house that had been allotted them for their stay. Cara walked into the room, and sat on the large bed. With an unreadable expression, she looked around the room, at the thick carpeting, the covered walls, the large windows, and the expensive sheets she sat on.

"This be the biggest bedroom I have ever seen," she said. "It be saddening me that there is so much wealth to be used by so few. My mother, she used be say that it be best to share whatever we can spare. Someone ought be telling Governor Mial this."

"You will have your chance to speak with the Governor, Carra," Qui-Gon said. "Just as he will have a chance to speak with you." Carra said nothing, and Qui-Gon looked at her intently. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked her.

Carra nodded, and then noticed that Qui-Gon had been gathering his things from around the room. "Be this your bedroom?" she asked. "I be not wanting to put you out."

Qui-Gon smiled and shook his head. "There's a spare bed in Mace's room," he lied. "Besides, it will be best for appearances if you have your own bedroom."

"Be it not people gossip anyway?" Carra asked. "Be it they talk, and they might be saying I be using my body to be convincing you my way?"

"Even if they are," Qui-Gon said as he carried his things to the door, "there's not much talking to be done. I'm sworn to celibacy."

"Oh," Carra said. Qui-Gon smiled, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Be it a shame," Carra whispered to no one in particular.

~*~*~

An hour later, Carra was unpacked, and had set out to find Qui-Gon again. She started on the top floor of the house, where the two bedrooms were, noting the one bed and bedroll in the room she guessed to be Mace's. The only other room on that floor was a large bathroom that joined the two bedrooms together; the tub could have easily fit two people in it, and the sonic shower was so top of the line, Carra wasn't even sure how to use it.

The main floor of the house yielded no better results in Carra's search, until she found the kitchen at the back of the house. There was some hot water waiting on a heating unit, next to a mug and a teabag, and somehow Carra knew that it was Qui-Gon's doing. Any man who could so readily see the wisdom in her mother's words would of course be as thoughtful as that. Absentmindedly, she set tea to brewing.

It really was a shame, she decided, that he had taken a vow of celibacy. But it was the path that he had chosen, and Carra's mother had always told her that it was not up to one person to change another when they had found the right of their own ways. Carra sighed and walked out the back door, which had been left open to let the late afternoon breeze in.

There was a garden behind the house. It wasn't much larger than Carra's mother's basement vegetable garden, but this one only held a few flowering bushes, a single tree, and a bubbling fountain. Carra's attention, however, was focused entirely on the man kneeling on a simple mat beside the water fountain.

Qui-Gon's eyes were closed, and Carra allowed herself a chance to look him over. He was tall -- taller than most men, she'd met, and at least as tall as she remembered her father to be -- and his frame was filling out with maturity, as if his muscles were at last catching up with the sudden growth of his skeleton. His eyes were closed, and his broad chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm, and Carra assumed he must have been praying.

Moving her gaze to his face, Carra took the time to memorize the strong line of his jaw, noting a few small scars marring the smooth perfection of his cheeks. Qui-Gon's nose was long and straight, in perfect compliment to his straightforward personality, as Carra knew him so far. His chestnut brown hair was pulled back into a paintbrush ponytail, and it looked as though he were growing his hair out from a haircut nearly as drastic as Mace's. And his eyes were the most vivid shade of blue, like the sky at midday of midsummer.

Carra flushed when she realized Qui-Gon had been watching her stare at him. "I...I be sorry," she stammered. "I be not meaning to disturb your prayer."

"I was merely meditating," Qui-Gon assured her. "Not praying."

"Then I be sorry for bothering you when you be meditating."

Qui-Gon waved her apology aside. "Are you settled in?" he asked her instead.

"I be unpacked, yes," she said. "But I be having questions about the negotiations."

Qui-Gon gestured for her to join him, and Carra perched on the edge of the fountain as she asked about everything from the length of the meetings, to how they would go, to how long the Jedi would be there. She asked a number of astute questions that many diplomats had a tendency to overlook, and Qui-Gon did his best to answer her. But he couldn't give her all the information she needed until he had spoken to Mace, who had yet to return from his meeting with the Governor, and he told her so.

"Well," Carra said finally, grinning at him, "it be seeming to me that you not be knowing as much as you like us be thinking you do."

Qui-Gon leered at her. "How do you know this isn't part of my plan to keep you off balance?"

Carra laughed. Her laugh was a soft, pure sound that Qui-Gon was sure he'd never forget. "My mother, she used be say that a good man and a good friend would be never to lie, cheat, or hurt on purpose. She also used be say that only a Jedi could such be."

"So am I?"

"Be you a Jedi? Unless you be dressing like this be for fun, yes. You be a Jedi."

Qui-Gon pulled a hurt face. "Is there something wrong with the way I dress?" he said, pouting slightly.

"There be nothing wrong," Carra said, and splashed him with some water from the fountain. She remembered something suddenly, and stood. "But there be plenty wrong with me, leaving my tea to brew strong two-day Caff be, and twice cold!"

She headed back to the house, confident that Qui-Gon followed her, but not aware that he was fascinated with the way the sunset highlighted her loose hair with a hundred colors he'd never seen before.

~*~*~  
Seven  
~*~*~

"You're playing with fire, you know." Mace's voice drifted across the room from the bed.

Qui-Gon grunted, and turned over on his sleeping pallet.

"Quit pretending to be asleep, Qui-Gon. You're thinking so hard about her, I was having naughty dreams."

"Thinking and doing are very different things," Qui-Gon finally said, sitting up. "And it will pass. We're just friends."

Mace snorted. "Right. If you say so, Jinn. But if we have another week like this past one, I'd hate to see you break your brand-spanking new vow. Speaking of spanking..."

Qui-Gon threw his pillow at Mace with amazing accuracy, considering it was pitch black in the room. "I choose not to think about her that way, Mace. And if you don't mind giving me back my pillow, I'll be going to sleep now."

Mace muttered something unintelligible, and Qui-Gon found himself with a face full of pillow. "What?" he asked.

"I said," Mace grumbled, "I have a bad feeling about this."

Qui-Gon decided to not respond to his friend, and lay on his back, trying to stretch out the kinks. He's been sleeping on his camping sleep pallet on the floor of Mace's bedroom for the past week; although he'd been getting less and less sleep each night. He had been telling himself that it was stress from the negotiations that kept him awake, but it wasn't images of the square, sterile conference room he'd been in for at least eight hours of each day that Qui-Gon saw when he closed his eyes.

Instead, he saw Carra, leaning over a simmering pot of a local dish that she made for him and Mace. He saw Carra enjoying a fifteen-minute break from the arguing, her eyes closed as she turned her face to the sun. Carra blushing when she realized she'd been caught staring at him. Carra grinning her half-grin that meant she was about to latch onto a weak point in someone's argument.

He could be alone and he'd still hear her soft laughter as she shared one of his bad jokes. Her lilting syntax flowed through his subconscious if he wasn't vigilant, as well. Frequently, he caught himself listening for her soft footsteps, signaling that she would soon be in the room. She filled his thoughts at all times, and Qui-Gon was running out of excuses for his behavior.

~*~*~

"She be lying," Governor Mial huffed, glaring across the table at Carra. "We be willing with care for any that be willing with work as we ask."

This had been the point of contention that all the other issues peeled away to reveal. Mace agreed that if they could just find some way to make Governor Mial see that it was in his best interest to compromise, everything would follow smoothly after. Unfortunately, Governor Mial had refused every technique they had tried. Finally, in desperation, Qui-Gon thought of an avenue that they hadn't explored. Patiently, he waited for the end of the day, which he sensed would come sooner than usual.

"Be I lying?" Carra said, her voice rising. "I be not the one who be not willing to heal people, and then be saying I be. My father, he be in a wheelchair I built for him. He be unable to walk, because you be so willing to be helping!"

This was the first time Qui-Gon had heard Carra raise her voice in the negotiations, even while Governor Mial had hurled shouted invectives at every opportunity. She had gotten upset, yes, and angry on several occasions, but Carra had still managed to keep a tight reign on her behavior. Qui-Gon knew from their many long talks together that Carra was determined to prove herself with the proceedings, not only as someone to be treated as a peer, but also as worthy of her father's faith.

Mace, sensing that the negotiations were about to take a very bad turn, stood up, his hands raised in temporary surrender.

"I'm afraid we will have to stop here today," he said pleasantly, as if the two representatives hadn't just been accusing each other of being liars. "Knight Jinn and I must call the Jedi Council and report on our progress this afternoon." It was a lie, but it was the most convenient excuse he could think of on such short notice.

Governor Mial immediately stood and stormed out of the room. Qui-Gon noted this, and cynically assumed that there would be more 'attacks' to frame the Worker's Party in the near future. He could only hope no one would be hurt.

Few words were exchanged as Mace, Qui-Gon, and Carra walked back to the Diplomatic House. Once inside, the men headed for the kitchen, and Carra for her room. The door was about to close behind them, when Qui-Gon heard Carra calling out to him, so softly he almost missed it. Turning around, he walked to where she stood at the foot of the stairs, her hand on the railing.

"My Qui-Gon," she said, and paused. She had begun calling him that a few days earlier, and only in private. She had told him it was a term of endearment used between friends and family members, so he had allowed it. What he didn't admit, though, was he got a secret thrill to hear her call him that.

"My Qui-Gon," she began again, "I be sorry for losing my tongue today. I be tired, is all. And I be tired of looking at Mial, too."

Qui-Gon smiled. "If you like, perhaps the three of us could go out for dinner tonight," he suggested.

"Oh, I be liking that, My Qui-Gon," Carra exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "I be liking that very much!"

In a burst of energy, Carra ran up the stairs, muttering something about finding something to wear. Qui-Gon called after her that at least _he_ knew what he was going to wear out. Grinning broadly, he returned to the kitchen. Mace gave him a reproachful look from his seat at the small table.

"Oh, shut up," Qui-Gon said cheerfully.

"Fine," Mace said, sitting back in his chair and resigning himself to being a witness for the inevitable wreck that his friend was heading for. "So what's the plan?"

"Plan? What makes you think that I have a plan?"

"You do. Whenever I see that look, I know you do."

"What look?"

Mace rolled his eyes. "The look of a Rancor that's been given the keys to every butcher shop on Coruscant. So, tell me."

Qui-Gon pulled out a chair, turned it around, and sat so he could lean on the back. "We call for reinforcements," he said, proudly smiling.

"That's your big plan? We call for reinforcements?" Mace sputtered. "But..."

"But Mial will think we're going to take him to Coruscant to face trial for the attempted murder of two Jedi Knights?" Qui-Gon asked smugly. "I know; I am a genius."

"You're a nutter, if you think this will work. We don't even have a shred of proof that it was Mial's doing."

"Yet. There is always someone who can tell us what we want to know."

Mace sighed. "Well, at least if reinforcements come, you and I can get off this rock."

~*~*~  
Eight  
~*~*~

Carra giggled as she stumbled down the street. She had had something to drink at dinner, something she couldn't remember the name of, and it was much more potent that she was used to. As a result, she was enjoying the way the world seemed to swish before her eyes. She stumbled again, and Qui-Gon caught her elbow before she could fall and hurt herself.

She looked up at him gratefully. "I be seeming to be having standing problems," she said with a grin.

"I noticed," Qui-Gon laughed, and kept his hand on her elbow even after she righted herself.

Mace hung back a bit, watching his best friend fall for Carra. Though he knew Qui-Gon would never break his vow, Mace also knew that Qui-Gon was headed straight for a Class-A heartache. He could only hope Qui-Gon didn't try anything foolish when he finally realized what Fate and the Force held for him. A noise caught his attention. Before he could call out a warning, the men came swarming at them.

There were five attackers in all. Two each went after a Jedi. One tried to grab Carra, but she fought with all her strength. All she had to do was hold on until either Qui-Gon or Mace could help. But her balance was off, thanks to the alcohol. She swung her fist, missing her attacker entirely. The man rushed her, and she threw herself to the ground to stay out of his grasp. Her cheek grazed the ground, and Carra felt stinging pain as her skin broke. Gasping in panic, she narrowed her focus on just staying out of his reach.

The Jedi were peripherally aware of Carra's plight, but they had their hands full with the other four attackers. Mace dropped to avoid a heavy punch. He kicked out, knocking one man to the ground. The other man jumped in time to avoid the same. But he wasn't fast enough to avoid going down when one of his cohorts tumbled back, bleeding from his nose and mouth. Qui-Gon had landed a square punch that had knocked him unconscious. The fourth man grabbed a piece of wood from the ground, and rushed the Jedi.

Mace had just stood, and easily dodged the charge. But Qui-Gon turned around a fraction of a second too late, and the man hit him in the face with the plank. There was a sickening 'crack,' and Qui-Gon fell back, blood gushing from his broken nose. The world spun for a moment, and stars flickered in Qui-Gon's vision. As his friend recovered from the blow, Mace gathered the Force, and used it to shove the man nearly a meter away, the wind knocked out of him.

Qui-Gon righted himself, and hurried to help Carra. Her attacker was concentrating so hard on her that he never noticed Qui-Gon come up behind him. The thug back up, and bumped into Qui-Gon. He looked up, and saw the angry, bloodied Jedi, and immediately turned tail and ran. The three others who were conscious did the same, their frantic footfalls fading into the distance.

Carra rushed up to Qui-Gon. "My Qui-Gon," she said, "you be hurt! We must be getting you to a Healer."

"I will be all right," he assured her. "Mace?"

"I'm fine," Mace said, and walked over to the unconscious thug. "And I think we ought to have a little talk with our friend here, when he wakes up. This was too well-planned to be a simple mugging."

"I agree," Qui-Gon said, trying to ignore the way his vision was swimming. "Why don't we..."

And then he fainted.

~*~*~

Qui-Gon blinked his eyes open slowly. He was lying on Mace's bed, and turned to look around. Immediately, he regretted the action; he had a Sith of a headache, and it was just too bright for his liking in the room. Someone sat on the edge of the bed, and Carra leaned over him.

"Good," she said, relief flooding her face. "You be awake."

"What happened?"

"You be having a concussion," she explained, helping him to sit up. "Your skull be cracked from the blow. It be a good thing you be so thickheaded, or it would be worse."

Qui-Gon chuckled, and grimaced immediately from the pain. With a groan, he cradled his head in his hands. "Where's Mace?"

"He be downstairs. The men that attacked us, they be paid to get me, and Mace be telling your Jedi Council that."

"They're not going to be happy about that," Qui-Gon commented, and rubbed his face. He paused, feeling something wrong. "Carra?"

"What be it, my Qui-Gon?"

"Why is my nose crooked?"

She laughed. "Mace, he be saying that it be a reminder for you to keep your head straight, even if your nose not be." Qui-Gon said nothing, and Carra shifted uncomfortably. "Be something wrong, my Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "I be planning to kill my friend," he said, mimicking her speech.

~*~*~  
Nine  
~*~*~

The man they had captured was only too eager to tell the Jedi who had paid him and his friends to attack Carra. It was no surprise to anyone that Governor Mial was behind it. When threatened with prosecution if he didn't cooperate, the man also confessed to being with the same people who had blown up Mace and Qui-Gon's ship.

Through a holo-conference, the Jedi Council had praised Qui-Gon and Mace for handling the situation so efficiently, and yet somehow managed to also berate them for not informing their superiors of the situation in the first place. Mace was thoroughly chastised, and accepted the recriminations with a bowed head. Qui-Gon, used to receiving lectures from Master Yoda, stood as meekly as he could, nodding when it was appropriate.

"Know of this, does Governor Mial?" Yoda asked once the two knights were properly handled.

"No, my Master," Qui-Gon said. "I had hoped to use it to convince him to... cooperate."

The holographic Yoda's ears flattened slightly. "Blackmail, that is," he cautioned. "Caution you must have my Padawan. Backfire it could."

"I don't think so, my Master," Qui-Gon said, shaking his head. "Governor Mial is too much of a coward, as is evidenced by his recent behavior. It should be fairly easy to convince him to be more willing to compromise with the Worker's Party, then."

It was very soft, but Qui-Gon was sure he heard Mace mutter something about that sounding familiar.

There was a very long pause as the Council debated Qui-Gon's plan. Finally, Yoda nodded.

"Go ahead, you may. Have until the end of the week, you do," Yoda said. "Send someone to help you, we will by then if you have failed."

"Yes, my Master." Qui-Gon and Mace bowed deeply as the image of the Jedi Council flickered out.

"Are you insane?" Mace said, not waiting more than a moment after the communication was ended. "Mial could turn violent if we force his hand, and then we will have thoroughly screwed things up."

"What's the matter, Mace? Worried about getting yelled at again?" Qui-Gon grinned confidently. "And, I have a plan..."

~*~*~

Carra adjusted her arm in the unnecessary sling, an irritated scowl crossing her face. "I be not liking this plan of yours, my Qui-Gon," she said. "It be leaving too much to be going wrong."

"Well, it's the best we can do on such short notice," he said, helping her straighten the sling. "Besides, I have a good feeling about this."

"Oh, and that be making me feel so much better!" she said. "You be having a good feeling. Be it you be hurt, or worse?"

He paused, thinking about how he would feel if Carra were hurt or worse. A tight knot of emotion formed in his chest, but Qui-Gon pushed it aside; he had a corrupt government official to blackmail. There would be time enough to inspect his feelings later.

"Well," he said, giving her hair a playful tug, "you'd have to get a new Jedi mediator, for a start!"

"You and Mace be bad enough," she said, smiling, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Well, don't worry, then," Qui-Gon said. "Everything will be fine, and you'll be rid of us before you know it."

Carra squared her shoulders. "We need be hurrying, my Qui-Gon, if we be not late for our big day."

Qui-Gon nodded, and gestured for her to lead the way into the conference room.

~*~*~  
Ten  
~*~*~

In retrospect, Governor Mial never even knew what hit him.

He was sitting at the table, privately patting himself on the back for having the Lee girl roughed up, when she walked in, followed by two very angry-looking Jedi. The Lee girl was wearing a sling on one arm, there was a small abrasion on the side of her face, and she seemed to be walking with a slight limp. But it was the tall, pale Jinn whose appearance frightened Governor Mial the most.

Jinn's face, a thundercloud of frustration, worry, and anger, was also swollen slightly from a blow, and his nose was crooked. Governor Mial's heart stuttered; he hadn't wanted to anger the Jedi. All he had wanted to do was scare the girl enough to make her give up and go running home to her daddy.

Deciding that feigning ignorance would be best, Governor Mial stood, drawing on his anger at the incompetents he had hired.

"What be wrong? Be you attacked?" he thundered. "I will be seeing that we find who be the ones who did this!"

The Lee girl sat calmly across from him, just as she had done every day for the blasted negotiations. "That be not needed," she said. "Our Jedi friends, they be having one of the men in custody."

The two Jedi remained standing.

Governor Mial visibly blanched. "What be he tell you?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level.

"He has told us nothing yet," the dark Jedi, Windu, said. "But one of our comrades is on her way here, and I am certain he will be more than happy to share his information with us once she is done with him."

Governor Mial swallowed heavily, unable to speak.

"It would seem that the situation here is graver than we thought, Governor Mial," Jinn said. "All these months of unrest are beginning to affect your people so that they attack not only a negotiator in Republic sanctioned talks, but also two Jedi. It is the second that has the Council so worried, as well as the Senate."

"Oh?" Governor Mial's voice was an octave or so too high, but no one seemed to pay it much heed.

"Yes," the Lee girl said, "it be a terrible crime to be attacking a Jedi. They be ready to be finding who be in charge of what be going wrong."

"And then we will gladly bring that person up on the appropriate charges," Windu said. "We shudder to think of leaving you with such a corrupt people."

It was then that Governor Mial realized that they _knew._ They knew he had paid to have their ship blown up, that he had lied when requesting the talks, and even that he had sent those men to attack the Lee girl. He felt like an insect in a small child's collection, pinned and trapped on a small wooden board as his three captors looked at him. He swallowed again, and licked his lips nervously.

"Maybe we be finding a different solution?" he suggested finally. "If we be resolving these talks, then we can take care of our own people. Then the Jedi be not worried about us."

"No," Qui-Gon said. "We wouldn't dream of leaving Yerrin in such a bad position. Especially since the people are so divided."

"The people will be not divided if we find a compromise," Governor Mial suggested, his heart in his throat.

"That sounds promising," Windu said, finally taking a seat.

Jinn sat as well. "Yes, it does," he said, and Governor Mial could have sworn he saw a glint of triumph in the Jedi's eyes.

~*~*~  
Eleven  
~*~*~

The sounds of celebration drifted in through the open bedroom window. It had taken only a few days for Governor Mial and Carra to reach a series of agreements and compromises that had been drawn up into a charter to be signed on the next day. Carra had gone home to tell her father the good news in person, as well as to tell him that he was welcome at the charter signing. Mace had gone out to meet up with Adi Gallia, who had come in her ship to collect the men, and help if necessary. Qui-Gon had chosen to stay at the house, ostensibly to meditate.

But instead, he found himself in Carra's empty bedroom. It was as if she was in every corner of the room; he could sense her presence so strongly. Her scent still lingered in the air, and Qui-Gon fancied that if he turned around fast enough, she'd be standing behind him, laughing softly at his folly.

Oh stop it you idiot, he chastised himself. It's not as if she's dead. She only went to go get her father, and she's due back at any moment. Qui-Gon didn't relish having to explain why he was lurking in the shadows of her bedroom if she were to walk in and find him there, so he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Blindly lost in thought, Qui-Gon walked until he found himself standing in the backyard, beside the fountain. Smiling without realizing it, he remembered one conversation they had had there, less than a week earlier...

"You should be growing a beard, my Qui-Gon," she had said, out of the blue.

"Is my face that horrible that I need to hide it behind hair?" he asked her.

"No," she quickly assured him. "But you be so young and pretty, might be it that a beard be making you look older. Might be it making people be more willing to be listen to your wisdom."

"Ah. But I think I ought to grow my hair out first, don't you?" He ruefully touched the short queue at the back of his neck.

"Be it that you are too vain, my Qui-Gon. My mother, she used be say that people who are vain needs must change what makes them vain."

Qui-Gon had reached over to tug at her dark, silky hair. "What about you? You seem so proud of your hair."

"Be telling you what, my Qui-Gon," she said, after a moment's thought. "After these talks be done, I be cutting my hair, if you be growing your beard. Be it a deal?"

"It's a deal," he said. "So long as I don't have to keep my beard very long."

"That be a very good idea. We would not be wanting you to get it caught in your light saber when you be fighting some evil some day..."

Qui-Gon sighed, shaking himself back to the present. He knew the time for fooling himself was at an end. He had been in love with her almost from the beginning, although he hadn't realized that the warming feeling he'd first felt had been so much more than his usual empathy for someone in distress. He just didn't know what to do next.

The slamming of the front door interrupted his thoughts, and Qui-Gon went back inside to investigate. Carra was there, her father beside her. She smiled brightly when she saw Qui-Gon.

"My Qui-Gon," she said, "I would be thinking you be with Mace to meet your friend."

"No," he said. "Mace and Adi are... very close. I thought they might like some private time."

Mionet laughed. "So not all Jedi be celibate?" he asked. "Would be my Carra --"

"My Father," she interrupted him, "I be not sure how to be getting you to a bed. Be it you have ideas?"

It was like a bell had been rung inside of Qui-Gon, and he clearly saw Carra for the first time. She loved him? That made matters that much more difficult, he knew. He just couldn't walk away without at least --

"Be it I will be fine on the couch, my Carra," Mionet interrupted Qui-Gon's thoughts. "Now be you off, and be letting an old man sleep!"

An idea crystallized in Qui-Gon's mind. "Carra," he said, "why don't we go outside and watch the fireworks display? It's about to start."

Carra gave him an unreadable look. "That be a good idea, my Qui-Gon," she said softly, and then left the room, heading for the garden.

~*~*~

They stood next to each other for a few minutes; the only sounds the bang of fireworks, and the almost hidden babble of the fountain beside them. Qui-Gon felt a ball of tension form in his stomach and work its way up his body, until it seemed to choke him. With a cough, he turned to Carra.

She was almost luminescent to him, her delicate, pale face turning reds and blues in the flashing light. Her eyes were dark and wide, and seemed to reflect an unusually large amount of light, but Qui-Gon felt his own tears threaten whenever he thought about leaving her. Almost on its own will, Qui-Gon's hand reached up to trace the delicate line of her jaw.

"All I can think about every moment of every day, is you," he confessed quietly. "How beautiful you are; how your hair smells in the morning, and how your eyes change with your moods. All I can think about is the last conversation we had, and the next we will have, and I can hardly wait, even with a lifetime of training in patience behind me. And all I want to do is to be able to hold you, kiss you, and be with you..."

"Wait," she said, pressing her hand against his lips to stop the flow of words she desperately wanted to hear. "Stop. I won't be letting you do this, my Qui-Gon. I can't." She pulled away, pacing to the other side of the fountain, and absently brushed back her hair. "It would be so much easier if you could just be stayed my friend - I could be pretended you be not feeling this way. We could at least be having our friendship between us."

"Carra?" he said, so much hurt in his voice, that she nearly backed down from what they both knew what needed to be said.

"From the day you be born," she said, "you were knowing exactly what be your path in life. It never be one that promised easy. You knew that when you be taking that vow, you be not making your path any easier, only harder. But my mother, she used be say that the right path rarely be the easiest, and that a decision be most difficult when it be between what you want and what be right."

Silently crying, Qui-Gon shook his head as if to deny he was hearing the truth. Carra was suddenly beside him again, and framed his cheeks with her hands, and looked into his eyes. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she kissed him. It was only the barest touch of lips, but when she pulled back, her tears had increased so she could barely see his beloved face.

"You be having your path, my Qui-Gon," she said, "and I be having mine. Our paths be not the same. My mother, she used be say that when we be saying hello, we be heading to goodbye. All we be doing is to make goodbye as beautiful as possible. I be wishing you a beautiful goodbye, my Qui-Gon. I be always remembering our beautiful goodbye."

"No," was all he could manage.

"Be it you ask your Force, and be it you see I be right." It was only the barest of whispers, but it rung truly through Qui-Gon as though she had shouted it.

The tears slowed, and he reluctantly nodded. "You're right, Carra. I hate it, but you are right. I wish you a beautiful goodbye, as well. And I'll never forget."

Before he could think better of it, Qui-Gon bent to capture her mouth. One arm wound around her waist, and the other cradled her back as he threaded his fingers through Carra's hair. Just as she began to respond by kissing him back, Qui-Gon released her, and Carra stumbled back. He reached out to caress her cheek.

"Goodbye, my Carra," he said.

And then he was gone.

~*~*~  
Twelve  
~*~*~

Qui-Gon sat on his bed, his room filled with darkness since the sun had long since set while he was lost in his past. It had been years since he'd allowed himself to think of Carra, and the memories had come flooding back to him with a vengeance when Mace had brought him the news of her death.

That night in the garden was the last time he had seen her. At the signing the next day, only Mionet and a few of his supporters had been there. Mace had noted the conspicuous absence of Carra, but said nothing. Mionet only gave Qui-Gon a single look of understanding. Later, all Qui-Gon would tell Mace, was that they had said their goodbyes the night before. Already showing some of the discretion that would soon bring him to his future position on the Jedi Council, Mace said nothing as he laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Nearly thirty years later, Qui-Gon could swear that he could still hear Carra's laughter, echoing from the next room. But he knew it wasn't so. She was dead, and her ship, the lasting tribute to their time together was nothing more than a pile of rubble. All he had left was a handful of pained memories.

And a dirty datapad. Qui-Gon turned it over in his hands, imagining he could sense Carra's imprint on every surface, just as he had the last night in her bedroom. He wondered if he closed his eyes, would he be able to see her again?

With a call, he activated the lights, and then turned on the datapad. The first screen was a brief statement, saying that it was to be sent to one Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master, in the event of the owner's death. There was a password required to read anything else, but Qui-Gon knew it without thinking.

_Beautiful Goodbye_

Text appeared on the 'pad, and Qui-Gon began to read.

_My Qui-Gon,_

_If you be reading this, then that be meaning that I be dead. It also be meaning that you and I never did be seeing each other again. If there be an afterlife, I be praying to be seeing you there. My mother, she used be say that there be no time for the dead. If you be dead years after someone you be caring for, you could be going to greet them when they be dying. I be hoping that my mother's words be right._

_There be so much I never be having the courage to be saying. And I not be having it now. But I be writing this to be letting you know something that I be always feeling. I be loving you still, and I be understanding why you be away. I know not if I be strong again if you be coming back._

_I be heard that you be having a young man to be teaching. Be it you told him of me? Be it you told him of our time? Be it not that he know not the man you truly be, my Qui-Gon. You be a wonderful man, and I be always loving you for that._

_But I be writing this not to be telling you how to be living your life. You be on your path long before you be meeting me, and it be right for you. I only be hoping that when we be meeting again, your path be closer to mine._

_This be our last beautiful goodbye,_

_Your Carra_

Qui-Gon gently, reverently, set the datapad on his bedside table. While he fervently hoped that Carra's mother had been right, he also recognized the truth in Carra's words. That brief period in his life had shaped much of who he was now. And Obi-Wan deserved to know that.

He reached for a fresh 'pad, and began to write.

~*~*~  
Epilogue  
~*~*~  
  
 _Five years later_

Qui-Gon gasped at the sudden, searing pain. He had been burned by lightsabers before, but they had always been minor touches from a low-power beam. But this... this was unlike any physical pain he'd ever felt. The Sith snarled as he withdrew his 'saber from Qui-Gon's body, his black and red tattooed face twisting with triumph. Qui-Gon dropped to his knees, and then fell to his side.

With great effort, he rolled to watch as Obi-Wan, his Padawan and friend, fought the Sith with a ferocity Qui-Gon had never seen before. For a brief moment, when Obi-Wan toppled into the melting pit, Qui-Gon feared the young man would die. But he could feel their connection still humming between them, and Qui-Gon sent an idea to Obi-Wan.

The lightsaber skidded across the floor, and into Obi-Wan's waiting hand. Taking advantage of the Sith's momentary surprise, Obi-Wan sprang up, vaulted over the enemy, and sliced him in half. The Sith had a shocked look on his face as his legs and upper body tumbled independently over the very precipice Obi-Wan had just come from.

Powering off the 'saber that was too big for his grip, Obi-Wan rushed to Qui-Gon's side, and gathered his friend and teacher into his arms.

"It's... it's too late," Qui-Gon said.

"No," Obi-Wan shook his head in denial.

There was so much to say, Qui-Gon despaired. But there was something he had only this moment to say. He could only hope Obi-Wan would understand the love and trust it implied. "Obi-Wan," he whispered, urgency laced with the pain on his face. "Promise me you will train the boy..."

"Yes master." Obi-Wan began to cry in earnest. He knew, deep inside, Qui-Gon was not going to survive, and that knowledge hurt him as surely as the Sith's double-bladed saber had hurt Qui-Gon.

"He is the Chosen One, he will bring balance. Train him," he said, his voice weakening.

He reached up, and touched Obi-Wan's cheek, wiping away a tear. For a fleeting moment, Obi-Wan saw faith and love in Qui-Gon's eyes.

And then his hand dropped away, landing with a dull thud against his chest.

~*~*~

With a deep breath, Obi-Wan entered Qui-Gon's room. The room seemed empty without the man in it, despite the fact that everything seemed to be awaiting Qui-Gon's return. There was a comb with a few silver hairs in it, set in front of a mirror. Statuettes, paintings, and other small mementos decorated the room in a pattern that only Qui-Gon had seen the order in. And on the bed, there was a stained, folded cloak. The cloak was the medium brown of a knight's cloak, much like the new one Obi-Wan had received just that morning. There was a datapad sitting upon the cloak.

Obi-Wan picked up the 'pad, and activated it.

_Dear Obi-Wan,_ it read,

_I have been planning to tell you so much once you become a knight. But if you're reading this, then I have left you too soon, and I am so very sorry for that. But I always knew this was a possibility, especially in our calling. So rather than dwell on the exceedingly depressing topic of my death, there are somethings I feel the need to tell you._

_I have always been so very proud of you. If I could have had a son, I doubt I could have loved him so much as I do you. You have been my friend, student, and companion for over a decade, and I cannot find the words to express how I feel._

_I once loved a woman. She told me that from the moment we say hello, we are already speeding towards saying goodbye. All we can do about that inevitable goodbye is to make it as beautiful as possible. I hope that I had the chance to say goodbye to you, but if I didn't, then this will have to do._

_This cloak is the first cloak I wore as a knight, and I give it to you. Wear it, or keep it put away; it's your choice. Just please understand that this, and our many years together, are all I can give you until we meet again..._

~*~*~

The air was filled with smoke.

Qui-Gon knew he should be coughing, or at the very least his eyes should be tearing. If he were alive, that is. But he was dead, and Qui-Gon briefly wondered why the Force was a smoky field in the middle of nowhere, with only a burning wreck nearby, and two Jedi kneeling over a third person.

_Carra._

He was already heading to her before he even fully registered who she was. She was older than he always pictured her, her face softened by middle age, and her hair cropped close to her skull. When he neared, Qui-Gon slowed, then stopped less than half a meter away.

She opened her eyes, and turned her head. For the briefest of moments, Qui-Gon knew she saw him.

"My Qui-Gon," she breathed.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes as she died. He would have cried, but his insubstantial state denied him this emotional release. He felt a gentle tug at his sleeve, and opened his eyes.

"Be something wrong?" Carra asked, her eyes twinkling.

"Nothing," Qui-Gon answered, smiling.

Carra reached up to feel his beard and to play with his hair. "You be taking your time," she commented.

"I had a few things to do," he said, and pulled her into a hug as their images faded to the Force, which was only too glad to give them the happiness they had been denied their whole lives.


End file.
